


Working Title

by MsSir



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSir/pseuds/MsSir
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: AU where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate.





	Working Title

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been haunting me for more than three years and I am over it. Understand this is not an admission of satisfaction, it is an act of expulsion--an unbeta'd expulsion. I suggest not waiting for the next chapter (Sappho knows if it'll be worth the wait when it finally is posted).

Miranda Carolyn Priestly was more inquisitive than her sister, Miriam Cassidy. Not only did she want to know the 'how' and 'why' of everything; she also enjoyed watching most adults squirm under the weight of her questions. For a good part of Miranda's life, there were only three people who truly enjoyed her curiosity: her parent's (who wanted to see their children grow up smart and ready for the world) and her sister (who enjoyed the benefits of knowledge without the work that came with it).

Miranda didn't have her first (outside of the norm) question about soulmates until she learned how babies were created and born. If twins were part of the same egg, split into two, then how come Miriam wasn't her soulmate? Were they not the same soul split into two, as well?

Miriam followed the logic of the thought and agreed. Although, they both knew something was off, of course, because they were not Mated.

"I'm going to ask Mom."

Miriam shrugged and picked up her violin. "Okay." She played bits of _Easter Thursday_ (this week's favorite song) out of order and with her own additions. Her eyes traced their room until they landed on Miranda's latest drawing. Their parents always said Miranda's eye for color was amazing considering she wasn't Sighted and Miriam knew Miranda's desire to draw, to create images and worlds through sight, is what really created her desire to learn about soulmates (even if, at the time, she didn't have the words to explain it).

"Mom says soulmates are not two halves of one soul." Miranda said as she made her way back into the room and onto the floor across from her sister. "Each soul is whole by itself." She sat a plate of Oreo cookies on the floor between them.

"Cookies?" They were almost never allowed snacks before dinner.

"It'll make it easier to explain what Mom said." Miranda picked up one of the four cookies, demonstrating as spoke. "Okay, so first, she took the cookie apart and spread an equal amount of cream on both halves."

Miriam rolled her eyes at her sister as she cut the cream in half with a finger nail. The amount of neatness and concentration used to distribute the sugary substance was completely unnecessary. And in a (wasted) attempt to show Miranda how it should be done, Miriam traded her violin for an Oreo and copied her sister. She finished first and ate as much cream as she spread.

With a cookie half in each hand, Miranda continued, "Mom said this half of the cookie isn't actually half." She shook her head, "Well, it's half of the Oreo, but it's not half a cookie. It's whole all by itself."

Miriam turned her right hand around a bit, taking in all the sides of her half-but-not-half of cookie and nodded. "Okay."

"And like the cookie, each soul is whole by itself. She said the cream is life."

Miriam's eyebrow rose at that (they both enjoyed mimicking their parent's facial expressions).

"It's the things we know and do and learn-"

"Then your cookie should have more cream on it," Miriam teased.

Miranda just rolled her eyes and kept going, "Mom said it's our life experiences."

_When it comes to making Oreo cookies, any two cookies will do the trick, but with our souls, there is only one other. Soulmates meet when life allows it; their life experiences create the connection between them. Then, these two whole and complete beings become a new entity and to celebrate that connection the two are given Sight._

"Cool."

\----- DWP ~ DWP ~ DWP -----

Miranda's curiosity still ruled plenty of her actions and words; it was the only reason this girl was standing in front of her. The girl's clothing didn't fit, nor did it truly match. And her hair looked as if she never bothered to Google 'hair care.' Miranda couldn't even stand the sight of her shoes long enough to describe them. The girl had no idea what Fashion was. Why was she interviewing for a position at _Runway Magazine_ , under the Queen herself?

"Who are you?"

"Andy Sachs," she took half a step forward, passing her resume to Miranda, who blinked as she accepted it.

A blink betrayed Miranda's annoyance. So this girl was 'just one of the guys?' And not woman enough to claim her sense of self? Was her given name commonly mispronounced? Was she too meek or lazy to draw out the syllables until it was spoken correctly? Miranda lost the desire to know, she understood _Runway_ was not a suitable workplace for _Andy_.

Still, "Why are you here?"

The girl's confusion was hidden, poorly, behind job-interview-mode. "Because I think I could do good as your assistant and-"

Miranda could tell the girl believed that; yet, it didn't answer her question. "Why are you here?"

"Um," she shook her head, "my resume got me a meeting with HR and she said it was this or _Auto Universe_."

Miranda liked honesty and she rewarded it (although, she wouldn't call it that) by looking at the resume. The paper was egg-shell white with hair like slate accents. Andrea Sachs. It was a nice enough name and Miranda didn't need to know why the girl chose to go by Andy. Nor did she need to figure out why the blacks and whites that made up the color of the page were out of sync.

Miranda made eye contact with the girl, saving herself from taking in the whole of her appearance, again. Her eyes were more amber than brown. Miranda couldn't help but make note of the four easier to name browns lingering there. "Editor-in-Chief of _The Daily Northwestern_." Miranda gave a muted nod, "Impressive." This Andrea must be intelligent and well-written to achieve such a title as an undergrad.

Andrea's stance shifted as if she knew the praise was rare. "I also won a nationwide competition for the college journalists-"

Nigel entered the office, stopping next to the girl, the action ending her sentence. Miranda eyed the differences between the two and was, once again, struck by the absurdity of the girl working here. She watched as Nigel took the girl in. He hid his confusion and amusement much better than he used to. Then he pulled the portfolio he was holding up, hiding his face from Andrea's view and stopped trying. He mouthed the question, "Is she here for a before-and-after shoot?"

Why Nigel would believe anyone in this building, other than himself, would have the patience to deal with this girl was beyond Miranda. Instead of answering, Miranda calls Nigel to her side with the smallest tilt of her head.

Andrea mistook the movement as a request to continue talking, "I won with my series about the janitors' union."

Miranda's focus shifts from Andrea to Nigel, specifically to Nigel's beautiful cadmium silk tie. The red was wrong, something about the grays was off. However, it was much easier to dismiss the girl now that Miranda wasn't looking at her eyes.

"That's all." Miranda's tone was bored, but she was anything but. She watched as Nigel removed the photos from the portfolio, his hands looked almost sickly. The colors were wrong. At this point, Miranda was beginning to get concerned.

Andrea didn't understand the dismissal. "I, um, uncovered the exploitation-"

Miranda couldn't tell if the break was a pause or a stutter, but she could tell there was something wrong with her desk.

"The exploitation of the ..." Andrea's voice trailed off as did Miranda's ability to hear it.

The azure tint that lives in Miranda's glass desk was stronger than usual. And the wrongness of-it's color started to spread across the surface. It was seeping onto the photos Nigel was laying out. Miranda picked up the one closest to her, the whole of the image was satisfying but wrong. The Sightless Master of Color (or at least that's what Miriam called her) was annoyed she couldn't name the imperfections spreading around her. And something tiny reminded her it started with the color brown.

"Okay, listen," Andrea's voice was all frustration and determination. It demanded Miranda pay attention and (without questioning why) she obeyed it. She looked up and met the girl's eye before realizing it and looking away. The wall behind the girl was more interesting anyway.

"I may not know too much about fashion-"

Nigel made a small noise in the back of his throat that everyone ignored.

"-but I'm smart and resourceful and-"

Miranda's eyes trailed over the artwork and magazines hanging on the walls behind the girl. She would have Emily book her an eye appointment.

"-I'll work very hard and ..."

Never mind an eye appointment, Miranda thought, as all the colors in the room started to close in on her. Maybe she was having a stroke. The tie, the desk, the photos, the girl's eyes. Nothing was the right amount of blacks and whites. Miranda was mental categorizing was cut off by two, simultaneous yet distinct, sounds of surprise. One was happening solely in Miranda's mind as she was flooded with comprehension. The other gasp, filled with the same knowledge, made verbal, filled the room as it left Andrea's mouth.

They were seeing _color_.

Miranda once again found herself looking into amber eyes. She felt robbed of the joy that should have come with being Mated. Robbed of the excitement that should have accompanied her Sight. Why would the Universe see fit to make this girl her Mate? All she felt was a slight panic and the desire to make the girl go away, quickly and quietly.

A beat later, eye contact still sustained, Andrea spoke again. "Fine. So you aren't going to hire me." Defeat had replaced the frustration in her voice, but the determination was still present and that knocked Miranda's panic up just a bit.

Miranda made a face, subtle in its changes but loud in it's meaning, and Andrea instantly quit talking. It was impressive that Andrea, having no knowledge of Miranda, spotted, understood, and obeyed that quiet look. Miranda didn't notice because she was too aware of the fact her eyes still hadn't left Andrea's. She was too aware that she was still counting the browns that flashed through them.

She could also feel Nigel's glaze as well as his confusion at the entire situation. He needed to go and Miranda felt the need to exert some of her power. She dismissed Nigel with the tiniest of head movements. It was something of a sweep that moved from his direction to the door. But Andrea's eyes were still locked on Miranda's and the display was for not. The girl didn't notice Nigel's speed in both collecting the photos and leaving the office. No, Andrea was still focused on Miranda. She was looking at the older woman with something akin to wonder and it was making Miranda slightly uncomfortable.

When Miranda heard the door close behind Nigel she started to wonder what all he understood from this. Miranda's office door was only closed for meeting with Irving (anything else that demanded privacy happened elsewhere). Miranda was pulled from this train of thought as Andrea took a step forward. She now stood directly in front of Miranda's desk.

Miranda was now up to nine shades of brown.

Andrea was towering above her and Miranda didn't like it. She slid her chair back and mirrored the girl space and stance. Miranda's blank facial expression slid into one of bored indifference. "You were saying?" Her tone would have caused even the most confident designer to question their self-worth.

Andrea, however, looked like she wanted to stump her feet. And yell.

Nine browns and two grays.

"Can we at least acknowledge our Sight?"

"I believe you have done just that."

"But-"

"There is no point in anything beyond that. Nothing can come of this." Thinking otherwise would make the girl entirely too naive for Miranda's patience. "You lack knowledge of and respect of my position. You believe Fashion, my life's work, to be a joke."

Andrea flinched, proving Miranda read her correctly, and tried to interrupt, "Wait a sec-"

Miranda stopped her with a slight shake of her head. "Add to that the fact that we having nothing in common and I'm at least twenty years your senior. Surely, you can see a relationship," she waved a hand between them, "would never work. And, frankly, if we weren't Mated, neither of us would ever attempt one."

Twelve browns, two grays, and black.

Miranda took a deep breath. "However, I am grateful to you for Sight I thought I'd never have."

Andrea's facial expression changed, shifted with each emotion as they took turns being the loudest. She even opened her mouth twice to speak but said nothing.

Twenty-three browns, three grays, and black.

A few moments of silence passed. Miranda mistook the quiet for acceptance and lowered herself back into her chair. Her heart felt heavy but she knew this was the right thing to do.

"That's all."

The quiet words snapped Andrea out of her stupor. "Like hell it is." She moved as close as she could, her thighs now touching the desk. "First of all, if this is how you treat people it's no wonder you thought you'd never been Mated." (But they both knew that was bull. People far worse than the Dragon Lady had found their Mate.) "Secondly, if you decided all that based on how I look and this extremely one-sided conversation, then you are right! I could never have a successful anything with someone so shallow."

Miranda felt the sting at the word "shallow," understood what all Andrea was putting behind it. Apparently, Andrea had forgotten Miranda had been right about every assertion she made. She was going to remind Andrea of that, but the angle of the girls' head suggested Miranda should remain quiet. So she did. The faster this was over, the better.

"Lastly, you can take your gratitude and shove it." Andrea turned on her heel and made her way to the door. Right before she opened it, she turned back, "Good luck finding a better assistant."

Twenty-nine shades of brown, three levels of gray, and black. Miranda was annoyed she could only name twenty-seven of the browns. She was annoyed at Andrea Sachs, at the Universe, at what she knew she had to do.

Of course, she could find a more suitable assistant. There was no doubt about that. Andrea was as overqualified as she under qualified; she must be desperate for work.

Miranda picked up the newspaper, giving herself something to look at. She was going to need something to focus on, a way to ignore the assistant she was about to call into her office. Andrea had left the door open on her way out so Miranda could use her normal tone and volume.

"Emily," it was just above a whisper.

Fifteen seconds later, Emily stood inside the doorway. "Yes, Miranda."

This will be a disaster. But, it would allow Andrea to feel like she tried. It would also give Miranda everything she needed to prove her point.

Miranda's eyes never lifted from the page. "Hire the girl."

"I'm sorry, what?" Miranda knew the face Emily was making without having to look.

"Has your hearing taken leave of the building along with her hideous shoes?"

"No, Miranda. I-"

Miranda looked up, eyebrow raised. Emily swallowed, nodded, and all but ran from Miranda's sight.

Any other time, Miranda might have smirked at the behavior, but not this time. The reality of her hopeless situation and wrongness of the world around her erased the small victory of Emily's fear.


End file.
